“So you’ll have to get the computer,” Blue said to Zoe. “You know all the menageries. You’ll understand the database better than any of us.”
Zoe rubbed her arms, trying to chase away her goose bumps. “So you guys will be the distraction.”
“I have an idea,” Logan said. He pointed to Riff and Nira, who were stretching their wings and clacking their beaks at each other. “If you can get Agent Dantes to take them back to their den, I’ll put Squorp in charge of being distracting. It’s one of his particular skills.” He grinned.
“Okay,” Zoe agreed. Logan pushed through the curtain, maneuvered carefully through the ice garden, and took off running toward the griffin enclosure on the far side of the lake. As soon as he was out of sight, Zoe climbed on the wall beside Nira and whispered in her ear.
Hmmmm, Nira rumbled. Will this get us thrown off the jury? Because I’m quite looking forward to participating in the judicial process.
Zoe raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
Of course. I’m especially looking forward to the part where someone else watches my cubs for a few hours while I get to use my brain and have adult conversations.
“Oh,” Zoe said, remembering that she still hadn’t had a talk with Riff about being more helpful with the cubs. After the trial. I’ll put it on my to-do list. “Sure, okay. Well, don’t worry, you’ll still be on the jury. But we need your help to get this evidence. I promise you’ll see why during the trial.”
All right, said Nira. But if I get thrown off the jury, you’re babysitting them all day Saturday.
“Deal,” said Zoe.
What are we doing? Riff asked. Something terribly noble?
Yes, dear, said Nira. Just follow my lead. She flapped her wings and paced over to the SNAPA agent. Delia looked up from packing her purse and jumped at the sight of the massive griffin peering down her beak at her.
Escort us home, suggested the griffin in a way that didn’t sound remotely optional. I wish to discuss my cubs’ eating habits.
“Oh, um,” said Delia, glancing at Runcible. “That’s not really SNAPA’s—”
Two of them will eat anything, Nira continued implacably. But the other four are being extremely difficult.
I’m terribly worried, Riff jumped in, clacking his beak. Sage has eaten nothing but pickles for the last two days and Clonk has been demanding chocolate coins instead of lovely fish and Clink is trying to organize a hierarchical system where she gets all the best food first but of course Yump won’t stand for that and then Flurp keeps pooping rainbow-colored poop. RAINBOW POOP, SNAPA AGENT! Pink! And lime green! And fluorescent orange! What sort of dreadful disease is this?!
Delia blinked.
Whoops, Zoe thought. She hadn’t had a chance to warn the griffin parents about the crayons Flurp had eaten while she was hiding in the town library.
Nira smiled an inscrutable griffin smile and put one wing around Delia’s shoulders, steering her toward the lake. We would very much like to hear your opinions.
“I—I don’t really have any opinion about, uh . . . rainbow poop,” Delia tried, but the griffins weren’t letting her slip away. They ushered her along the path, both talking at the same time. Once the SNAPA agent was at the griffin enclosure, the next step would be up to Logan. Zoe turned to Blue.
“Go get a bucket of fish, so it looks like we have a reason to be there,” she said. “Hurry.”
Blue and Marco ran down to the lake while Zoe followed the griffins and Delia. Riff hopped along on Delia’s other side, swishing his lion tail dramatically and expounding on the various eating dilemmas of his six children.
Squorp and Yump are such good cubs, he declared proudly. They’ll eat anything, really anything, and they’re constantly hungry, but then I worry, are we overfeeding them? Or perhaps they’re hungry because we’re not feeding them enough? What do you think? Is twelve hamburgers a day enough? Should we be giving them more broccoli? I never ate broccoli a day in my life and I turned out fine but Zoe had this cookbook that said—
He probably thinks this really is what they need to talk to her about, Zoe thought fondly. Riff was a goof, but no one could say he didn’t love his cubs.
Zoe hung back as they reached the griffin pen, waiting for Blue to catch up with the fish from the lake. She watched as the agent unlatched the gate and swung it open—and three griffin cubs exploded out the door, squawking at the top of their lungs.
Delia shrieked and dropped her purse.
“Quick, catch them!” Logan yelled, running out of the enclosure and chasing Squorp down the hill. Flurp butted Delia’s legs and galloped away. Clonk chased after her, waving his wings like he was hoping if he ran fast enough he’d end up airborne.
My cubs! Riff bellowed frantically. My beautiful cubs! He charged after Squorp, nearly running Delia over.
You let them out, Nira said calmly to Delia. You can get them back.
The agent let out a cry of dismay as Flurp shot past her once more. Delia grabbed for the cub’s tail, missed, and ran after her around the wall of the griffin enclosure.
Zoe bolted toward Delia’s purse, pulled out the computer, and ducked behind Nira’s outspread wings. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed Blue and Marco joining the chase. The happy yowls of griffin cubs filled the air as Flurp, Clonk, and Squorp charged in circles through the grass, yipping with glee. Nira sat down and examined one of her front paws.
The computer made a little ping noise as the screen lit up. The background was a photo of a smiling couple with a little girl. Zoe guessed it must be Agent Dantes at about age eight or nine, with her parents. She had the same hairstyle and the same wistful expression. Zoe wondered how she’d been recruited to be a SNAPA agent.
She scanned the icons on the home screen until she found one that said “Creature Index.” When she tapped on it, a spreadsheet popped up that listed creatures by name, location, species, and previous homes, with a section for notes on each one. Zoe touched one of the tabs to rearrange it by species, then scrolled down to “Golden Geese.”
There were eleven listed besides Pelly; Pelly’s line was in red, with a note saying “DECEASED; SUSPECTED DRAGON ATTACK” next to it.
Zoe read down the list, trying to memorize it and look for anything surprising. Too bad it doesn’t list their ages, too, she thought. There was one goose at the New England Menagerie with a note that said “DECREASED EGG PRODUCTION. STRESS? PROXIMITY TO DRAGONS?” Another had been relocated to Vancouver from a tiny menagerie in Parkville, Missouri; the note said “MENAGERIE CLOSED DUE TO EXPOSURE; KRAKEN INK ADMINISTERED TOWN-WIDE.”
Zoe shuddered. That could have been them if the griffin cubs had been spotted by someone in Xanadu. Shoot. Someone had seen them—Miss Sameera. Zoe still needed to deal with that.
Come back, my beautiful cubs! Riff bellowed, careening past with his feathers flying. I promise to give you more love and affection!
Zoe focused on the list again. One goose had been sent to the Costa Rica Conservatory after the Amazon menagerie was shut down because of a dragon attack. Five of the geese were in Europe and one was in Mongolia, at the site of the original Kublai Khan menagerie.
And one was at Camp Underpaw in Colorado.
Zoe gasped.
That was Matthew’s Tracker camp.
SEVENTEEN
The late-afternoon sun filtered through the pear trees inside the griffin enclosure. Logan sat on one of the boulders, tossing a baseball for the cubs. He’d tried tennis balls first, but they hadn’t held up well in the sharp little beaks, and now neon-green fuzz was scattered across the grass. There was also quite a bit of fuzz stuck to Clink’s feathers, as the largest griffin cub had apparently decided the tennis balls were a threat to her treasure and disemboweled them all.
Now the black cub was perched beside him, glaring intently at her brothers and sisters as they galloped after the baseball.
“It’s just a game,” Logan reassured her. He’d promised to stay and play with the
cubs if they helped distract Agent Dantes, which they had done with great enthusiasm. It had taken about twenty minutes to round up the three escapees, and finally Dantes had staggered off to the main house without noticing that her computer had been briefly borrowed.
Nefarious ball is unpredictable, growled the black griffin cub. Nefarious ball threat must be squashed and defeated. She clacked her beak sharply.
The only other cub not playing was Yump, the plump red griffin. He’d planted himself firmly on Blue’s foot and was keeping his eagle eyes on the bucket of fish Blue was holding out of reach.
“Can I see my mom’s bracelet for a minute?” Logan asked Clink. She dipped one wing toward him and slid the gold “treasure” he’d given her into his hands.
He turned it over and studied the twelve charms. What he’d thought were an elephant, a fox, and a lizard suddenly looked totally different to him: a mammoth, a kitsune, and a basilisk stared back in stamped gold form.
These are the creatures she tracked, he thought. A new charm each time she found one; that’s why she always added one to the bracelet after each trip. But she never took the bracelet with her. She always left it with Logan. Maybe she’d been planning to explain it all to him one day—her job, where she went all the time, the minor fact that unicorns and dragons existed.
I wonder if Dad would tell me anything if I asked him about this bracelet.
Squorp came galloping back with the baseball in his beak and the other cubs close on his tail.
Squorp triumphant! he bellowed inside Logan’s head.
“Can I try?” Marco asked Logan.
“Sure,” Logan said. “Squorp, give the ball to Marco.” The golden griffin cub dropped the baseball in Marco’s hands. As Marco stood up to throw it, the other three cubs all tackled him at once, knocking him to the ground.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Marco yelled. “Help! I’m drowning in griffins!”
Squorp to the rescue! shouted Squorp with glee. He leaped into the fray, wrapped his front paws around Flurp’s shoulders, and started rolling vigorously around on top of Marco.
“Aaaah! Less help, less help!” Marco cried.
Logan laughed and glanced across at Nira, who was fast asleep on a boulder outside her cave. He was glad to give her a break from the craziness of playing with her cubs all day long.
“Zoe!” Blue called. “Stop pacing and come talk to us.”
Zoe had been walking in circles around the inside of the fence, rubbing her wrist anxiously, ever since Dantes had left. She shoved her hair back and climbed up to sit next to Logan.
“There’s a golden goose at Camp Underpaw,” she said to Blue. “But that doesn’t mean Matthew did this. Right? I mean, why? Why would he take Pelly and ruin the Menagerie like this? Why would he let Scratch take the blame?” She shook her head. “Does he need money for something? He has been acting weird since camp.”
Sage, the smallest griffin cub, jumped off Marco and scrambled up the boulder to curl in Zoe’s lap like a cat. Zoe stroked her long head feathers and scratched between her wings, and Sage made a contented purrlike noise.
“Where were the other geese?” Logan asked.
Zoe rattled off a list that didn’t mean much to him.
“What about the SNAPA agents?” Blue said. “They go from menagerie to menagerie all the time. It’d be easy for Agent Dantes or Agent Runcible to collect extra goose feathers from somewhere.”
“Yeah, but we know where they were Saturday night when Pelly was taken,” Zoe pointed out. “Runcible was a werewolf, with a tracking device, no less, and Delia was monitoring him so he wouldn’t eat anybody.” She ruffled Sage’s fur with her fingers.
“So we should at least check out Matthew,” said Logan. “Where is he now?”
Zoe nudged Sage off her lap and jumped off the boulder. “Let’s go find out.”
Blue hung the bucket of fish from a high branch of the tree for Nira and Riff to hand out later, prompting tremendous caterwauling from Yump.
Not FAIR! Why TORTURING YUMP WHY?
“It’ll be dinnertime soon,” Logan promised him. He glanced at his watch, realizing that meant he needed to head home before long. His father had texted that he’d be home for a late dinner, if Logan was up for it. Another uncomfortable dinner with Dad didn’t exactly sound awesome, but it was unavoidable. Logan’s plan this time was to talk about football and nothing else. That seemed like the best way to save both of them from telling any more lies.
Mommy’s turn to throw the baseball! Squorp announced as Logan went out the gate.
Hooray! chimed the other griffin cubs, racing over to their sleeping mother.
There was no sign of Matthew back at the house. The only person in the living room was Keiko, sprawled across one of the couches with a magazine.
“Hi, Keiko!” Marco blurted loudly.
She glanced up, narrowed her eyes at him, and went back to reading.
“That doesn’t look like homework,” said Zoe.
“It’s more important than homework,” Keiko said. “I’m choosing a costume for the Halloween party.”
“Jasmin’s party?” Marco said with a little too much enthusiasm. “I’m going to that, too! On Friday! In costume! I’ll totally be there!”
“As what?” Keiko said, flipping a page without looking up. “A chicken?”
“HA-HA-HA!” Marco said. “Uh, you know there’s a difference between a chicken and a rooster, right? Roosters are much tougher.”
“Right,” Keiko said, yawning. “And they’re a little saltier, too. Still delicious, though.”
Marco opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking equal parts horrified and fascinated. Logan took his elbow and dragged him up the stairs behind Zoe.
Matthew’s room was at the end of the hallway, beyond Blue’s room and opposite the bathroom. The door was always closed, as far as Logan had seen, and it was covered with sketches of stern-looking griffins and fierce dragons and a few creatures he couldn’t even name. The drawings were pretty great, actually; Logan wished he could draw like that.
Zoe hesitated outside the door, then knocked.
“Go away!” Matthew’s voice yelled, making them all jump.
“Guess we’re not sneaking in there,” Blue whispered.
“Matthew,” Zoe called. “Logan wanted to ask you a question about Tracker camp.” She signaled to Blue that he should take Marco into his room and the two of them ducked out of sight.
The door creaked open and Matthew looked out at Zoe and Logan, frowning. He had dark rings under his eyes and smelled like coffee and damp leaves.
“I’m not speaking to either of you,” he said. “I’ve showered twice and I’m still finding glitter in my ears and armpits and between my toes. Even my sneezes are sparkly. It is NOT. COOL.”
“Please?” Zoe said. “Isn’t there a deadline for applying?”
Matthew raised his eyebrows. “You want to apply to Tracker camp?” he said to Logan.
“Uh, yes,” Logan said, although he hadn’t thought about it seriously. “I mean, I think so. Did you like it?”
“Yeah,” said Matthew, not very convincingly.
“Matthew was the star of Tracker camp,” Zoe said.
“False,” Matthew said. “Now go away.”
“Oh, please,” Zoe said. “The first couple of weeks, it was like we got an email every day from the counselors talking about how you’re so great with the animals and you’re working so hard and you’ve inherited the Kahn touch and all that.”
“Yeah, well,” said Matthew. “After a while they figured out they were wrong.” He started to close the door and Zoe stuck her foot in the way. “Zoe, stop annoying me.”
“Can you just show Logan your application?” she asked. “Please? I’ll do your Reptile House chores tomorrow.”
Matthew pointed at her. “And take my turn cleaning out the unicorn stable.”
“All right,” she said with a grimace.
“Fine.” He
gestured into his room. “Come in, but don’t touch anything.”
Logan’s first impression was that Matthew’s room was a huge mess. Clothes were scattered across the dark green rug, on top of the desk, over the rolling desk chair, and basically everywhere except in the laundry hamper. Pine-green sheets were tangled with a white-and-green-striped comforter on the bed; no sign of a pillow anywhere. Giant corkboards covered two of the walls, and about a million sketches of mythical creatures were pinned to them, plus a map of Xanadu with several red X marks all over the surrounding woods. The only clear spot in the room was on the desk, where a box of colored pencils sat neatly on a blank sketch pad.
Zoe looked around in surprise. “Where’s your Tracker dreamboard?” she asked.
“It was stupid,” Matthew said.
“No, it was cool,” Zoe protested. She turned to Logan. “When Matthew was ten, he made this awesome dreamboard about how he was going to be a Tracker when he grew up, and he put it on the wall to keep himself focused.”
“Lame,” said Matthew, tossing clothes off his desk chair.
“Is it in the closet?” Zoe asked, opening the closet door.
“Don’t go in there!” Matthew yelled.
Zoe blinked at the piles of clothes and shoes on the closet floor, then tilted her head at Matthew. “Why are you acting weird? There’s nothing in here. Except this.” She reached up and gently touched a set of tiny wind chimes that were hanging from the otherwise empty bar. The small jade tablets of the chimes tinkled, sending strange ripples along Logan’s skin. Matthew shivered as well, frowning, but Zoe didn’t seem to feel it.
“I mean, it’s a little crazy to have wind chimes in your closet, but I won’t call any authorities on you, don’t worry,” she joked. “Oh, here it is.” She pulled a large white foam square from the back of the closet and propped it on the bed for Logan to look at.
In the center of the board was a photo of Logan’s mom with her arm around a ten-year-old Matthew. Her warm brown eyes crinkled over her huge smile, and Logan felt his own eyes prickle alarmingly. He was so not going to cry in front of Matthew.
The Menagerie #2 Page 13
